ine, of course! Who else could I mean?"

"Oh-oh. Yes, I had forgotten all about her."

He might have been talking of a fly that for a moment had buzzed by his
side. The cruel indifference of his manner stung me into quick retort.

"Yet you seemed very kind--you _were_ very kind to her a few minutes
ago. Do you always forget so quickly?"

A movement of his hand reduced the speed of the engine. We had left the
village far behind, and the wide high road stretched before us like a
brown ribbon, sloping gently up and down the grassy slopes. For miles
ahead there was not a soul in view. Ralph Maplestone stared at me and I
stared back at him. Seen close at hand, his plain face had an
attraction of its own. It looked strong and honest; its tints were all
fresh and clean, speaking of a healthy, out-of-door life. No little
child had ever clearer eyes. They didn't look so stern as I had
believed.

"What have I to remember? Delphine came for a drive; I'm glad she
enjoyed it, but it is over. Why should I think of her any more?"

"Oh, no reason at all!" I said testily. I felt testy, as if from a
personal injury. "Only when one has a friend, it is agreeable to
believe that out of sight is not immediately out of mind. But, of
course, I am a woman. Women's memories are proverbially longer than
men's."

The speed slackened still further. Now we were rumbling along at a
speed which made conversation easy. The blue eyes gave me another keen
glance.

"Women burden their memories with a thousand trivialities. Men brush
them aside, and keep to the few that count. In the big things of life
they are less forgetful than women!"

I smiled, a slow, superior smile, and spoke in a forbearing voice:--

"Do you think you--er--_really_ understand very much about women?"

"No--I don't. How can I? I don't know any," he replied bluntly, and
the answer was so surprisingly, illogically different from what I
expected, that involuntarily I laughed, and went on laughing while he
stammered and tried to explain.

"Of course I have my opinion--every fellow has. One has eyes. One
can't go through life without _seeing_. But, personally, it's quite
true. I _don't_ know any. Never have done!"

"Your mother?"

"You would think so, but we are too much alike--tongue-tied--can't say
what we feel. She is more at home with my sister, who chatters from
morning till night, and has no reticences, no susceptibilities. We care
fo